Return of the Storm Goddess
by VeneficaMelody
Summary: After the events of X3, Ororo returns to her home village.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**: Set after X3. Written as if the three movies are the only universe. Therefore, none of Storm's past has yet been discussed. I do not know if the Mbu people actually exist. If they do, I meant no disrespect.

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The scent of the dirt floor and sun-warmed hides brought back quite a few vibrant memories to Ororo's mind as her eyes fluttered open. It had been years since she'd left the remote African village she'd been born into, after vowing never to come back. There hadn't been enough good experiences in her short adult life to keep her tied to the roots of her home village. After the death of Charles Xavier, Ororo had felt it her duty to come back to the village of the Mbu people.

She was their venerated goddess: a weather witch that kept their crops plentiful and the life-giving rivers flowing smoothly. At least, she had been, before the young chief Kikoibu had announced to the entire village of over ten thousand Mbu that she would be his wife. Ororo had always been amused by Kikoibu, feeling a little sorry for the boy who had been forced into ruling after his father's untimely death at the hands of an enemy tribe. The village of Mbu was located deep in a lush forest, spanning many miles to hold all of the Mbu people. For many generations, the Mbu people had lived in separate groups, fostering their own dialects and customs. Living quite comfortably, in fact, in smaller numbers, before Kikoibu's father had decided that it was unseemly for the Mbu kingdom to be separated. He demoted the village chieftains, proclaimed himself the supreme ruler of the Mbu and having a large kingdom built at his orders.

Kikoibu's father, Hakiu, had been a good-hearted man, only wanting his people to be safe. It had been during Ororo's childhood that the kingdom of the Mbu had been joined, and so she had known very little time in which her family lived in one of the off-shoots of the Mbu village. Their accent was a little different from Hakiu's people, their coloring different, as well as some of their customs. It was a mishmash of peoples and cultures populating the new Mbu village, although Hakiu was adamant that they would become one people again, as they had been before the groups had broken off.

Ororo had been raised by her mother, never meeting her father who had died from a disease that ravaged the village. He had been half-white, the son of a lower Mbu ruler who had been deposed after Hakiu's declarations of a combined community. Her father had rejected his un-African roots, feeling himself oppressed if he was anywhere but the village of his mother's people. Ororo's father refused to think of himself as anything but a Mbu warrior: wearing the skins of his hunting conquests, painting his face for war and celebration, sharpening the throwing staff and his knife blades. Ororo's last name, Munroe, was one of the English things that her father offered to her. It might serve her well in the changing world someday had been his reason. Ororo had never forgotten those hated roots even as she traveled the world searching for other mutants.

Her mother's tribe was one of the off-shoots of the Mbu people that had adapted after generations of living apart from the main population. Their language wasn't as butchered as other, farther living, tribes, but it wasn't perfectly symmetrical with the original. Somehow, the genes that contributed to hair color had convoluted, causing anyone with the tributary clan to be born and live with snow white hair. A striking contrast in those of darker skin, like Ororo herself. She had often wondered: if she bore a child from one of the original Mbu people, would the genes be mixed, or would the initial tribal genes dominate? It turned out to be a moot wonder, however: Ororo had never found a Mbu man that she considered worthy to marry.

Many had tried to win her hand, mostly because they wanted to marry the village's most powerful woman. Ororo had felt out of place during those meetings and eventual refusals. Shouldn't they have been scared of her because of her powers, not wanting a mate more powerful than they? To Ororo, it had been a constant form of annoyance, but she hadn't complained aloud. To do so would make her seem very human, something that didn't fit with her image in the Mbu world.

Ororo and her mother had moved to the main Mbu village at Hakiu's request; he had wanted her powers to be nearby if his people had need of her talents. The chief had never tried to buy her or force her to use her powers in a way that she didn't wish; Hakiu merely used her powers of rain or sun for the good of the people's crops. It had been a good life until Hakiu's death, when Kikoibu had assumed leadership. His youth and immaturity had kept him from being a good ruler, and Ororo had fled the Mbu village after her mother's death. She didn't want to remain where she would have to fight Kikoibu's advances -- after losing her mother, it didn't seem worth it.

Now, after the death of Charles Xavier, she found herself back in the Mbu village. She had arrived in the dead of night, startling the guards. They had recognized her as a Mbu derivative because of her snow-white hair, and had admitted her easily enough into the village after she identified herself as Ororo, their venerated goddess. She had proven her identity, of course, with a small snow storm that delighted the guards before she entered the high gates. The courtyard had been dark, but Ororo hadn't needed light to guide her through the large city: she knew exactly how to get to the house she'd shared with her mother.

It had been unoccupied, as she had known it would be. When she had left the village, Kikoibu had vowed that she would always have a place there, that none of her things would be touched. It appeared as if no one had set foot into the hut since Ororo had left shortly after her mother's passing away. It had been an uneventful night, sleeping on a down feather mat spread on the dirt floor near the hearth. The birdsong from outside the window had wakened Ororo, along with the voices and sound of people moving about. Curious voices in the Mbu dialect she hadn't heard for many years were speculating about the identity of the occupant of the hut that had been closed off at the king's decree. Did someone seek death at Kikoibu's angered hand?

"Remove yourself!" the loud voice was familiar to Ororo's ears, and just a bit unwelcome. A wry grin was on Ororo's face as she made sure she was presentable. She had found her old tunic in one of the reed baskets, a heavy necklace around her neck decorated with the Mbu symbol, numerous tight-fitting gold bracelets, and dangling, shimmering earrings. The accoutrements of a Mbu goddess, although the plain tunic left a little to be desired. Stepping from the hut, her head held high as she relished the forgotten feeling of the ground beneath her bare feet, Ororo looked steadily at the grim face of the young chief.

Kikoibu wore silken robes cinched tightly around the waist so that it billowed around his legs, a large feather headdress proclaiming his station -- as if anyone in the village could possibly not know the man's face. "Lord Kikoibu," Ororo said confidently. She knew that, although she had left the village for quite some time, her power was still superior to Kikoibu's own.

"O-Ororo," he stuttered, eyes widening. "I believed…" Ororo already knew that word had somehow filtered to the Mbu that she had perished in a particularly bloody battle -- a battle that _would_ have been fatal if not for Jean Grey's particular skill. It was too bad about the doctor's death…

"I am sorry to disappoint, my lord, but I still live."

"Upon receiving word of your death, monuments were erected in your memory, Goddess," Kikoibu stated gutturally.

Ororo knew the striking picture that she made: her hair was flowing freely, framing the dark skin of her face. She hadn't been able to find any paints in the hut that would have been used to decorate her skin according to her rank, but it was a small matter. Now that she had returned to the village, Ororo knew that whatever she needed would be provided.

"Do my mother's people still live?" Ororo changed the subject smoothly, granting Kikoibu the escape.

The people who lived nearby were still gaping at the exchange, but Ororo was sure that some had scurried off to inform their relatives about the weather goddess' return. "Yes, my lady, your aunt Liah still lives. She grieved greatly over the news of your death."

The family had never been close; Ororo's mother's sister had especially rejected her mother after she'd married what the sister considered a pseudo Mbu tribesman. The white blood in Ororo's father's veins had made him a demon as far as the family was concered, and that had spilled over onto Ororo herself although she had just been a child. Ororo said nothing of her doubt of Liah's grief, and instead offered an agreeable smile.

Ororo had refused to sink into a forehead-knocking bow at the sight of the king, which any one else in the village would have done on fear of death. Her powers made Kikoibu fear her, Ororo knew that, and she didn't miss an opportunity to remind him. It wasn't that she was power-hungry, but Ororo knew that someone had to teach the young king humility.

"Goddess, you cannot live in this hovel. Come to the palace; I will have a luxurious suite of rooms prepared for you, and serving girls of your very own."

Kikoibu's smooth voice met Ororo's ears as she studied the parts of the village she could see from her position. She glanced at him, a frown tickling at the edges of her lips. Coddled in the palace, servants to wait on her hand and foot? Maybe to another of the village girls it would sound like paradise, but to Ororo it just felt stifling. "Please, Goddess, you cannot refuse," Kikoibu murmured smoothly. "What would the people think if you refused that which is owed to you?"

"They would think that I am not too proud to consider myself a mere person," Ororo told him, turning on her heel and striding away. She refused to bow to the boy king's ideas of self grandeur; it would be his downfall someday. The boy felt himself entitled to the crown because of his bloodlines, and although he was nearing the end of his second decade of life, Kikoibu wasn't yet adept at ruling.

The village had grown since she had last seen it, but the huts remained the same. Clustered around various dirt courtyards with wells in the middle of each courtyard. All of the huts surrounded the massive palace which was in turn bordered by a large communal marketplace. Ororo knew that she could find anything she needed in the marketplace, if she only had the desire to look and haggle. She didn't yet feel it necessary to do so, and therefore she wandered through the village, reacquainting herself.

Ororo had never thought that she would return to her people after leaving, but she had seen the world and lived her life under the kind tutelage of Charles Xavier. After the professor's death, Ororo had realized that the man's life mission to unite mutant kind and change humanity's hostile view of mutants had been not only a noble cause but the thing that kept him living for so long. Ororo had known nothing of the state of affairs for the Mbu people until she had sent out a scout, someone who could report to her of Kikoibu's actions and the general wellbeing and feeling of the Mbu people. What had been described had horrified her. How could her people live under Kikoibu's shattered rule? His ministers were of no use when it came to taking care of the people. No mortal could repair what Kikoibu had taken apart; it was up to a goddess to do such, and the Mbu only had one such living.

Her ties with the Mbu people had been severed upon her mother's death, and she formed new ties with Charles Xavier and the mutants of the Institute. It had been hard to leave the mansion, but she knew that Hank and the others would keep it going. Although Logan was still reeling from Jean's death, he would become a proper leader for the X team and the students who were still trickling in. Marie would help Logan in getting over the woman's death: it was clear that the younger girl favored the man, although she'd never admitted as such. Logan wouldn't have been Charles' first choice for leader, but since Scott had been killed, he was the best candidate. If he learned to control that temper…

"Goddess!" The breathless cries reached Ororo's ears and she saw the people nearby throw themselves to the ground in bows, knocking their foreheads against the dusty ground. "Praise to Ororo, our Storm Goddess, she who rises from the dead!"

Apparently, Kikoibu had wasted no time on informing the people that their exalted goddess had perished, taking away their hope of salvation. It had been a long time in coming, and Ororo was slightly guilty that she had stayed away for so long. How had she ever believed that she could walk away from these people?

After quite a few hours of wandering, Ororo found herself in the marketplace, searching for something to eat. Many of the older people recognized her as the Storm Goddess, and they offered food or other items with no money or trade asked in return. "For our savior!" they claimed, dark eyes shining with hope. Although she had traveled the city extensively, Ororo had not yet seen anyone with the trademark hair color of her clan of Mbu. Were they all gone, or did they dye their hair with plant juices from the forest to make them fit in?

Making her way back to the hut, Ororo looked at the outside of the two-room hut. It was well taken care of; although no one had touched the inside, they had carefully preserved the exterior from the elements of the weather. Thinking of the weather reminded Ororo of the crops. How had they fared in the absence of the clan's weather witch? Storing the food inside with some of the other things she'd accepted, Ororo stepped outside once again.

The dust swirled at her feet as she gathered the powers of the wind around her, buoying her body upward in the appearance of flight. And what was flight besides manipulating the surrouding wind? Ororo's eyes had gone opaque as she was lifted into the air, her abilities imbuing her with a feeling of power. It wouldn't take much effort to check on the condition of the crops, and then she would return to prepare her dinner.

As the wind carried her toward the high city walls, Ororo felt slightly self-conscious at the pointing fingers and cries of blessing. In the outside world, she was persecuted for being different, but here among the Mbu, she was a goddess to be worshipped. Wasn't it better that she was welcome in her homeland?

There, the crops that served for the village people. They weren't as green or plentiful as Storm remembered (how could she even refer to herself as mundane Ororo when she was in mid-flight?) but surely Kikoibu wouldn't have allowed the people's food source to completely falter. A satisfied smile was on the woman's face as she landed in the dust at the doorstep of her home. At least the people weren't lacking for food, but during her flight she had seen that the nearby river wasn't as wide as it had been. Was the river losing depth, life, with the weather witch's absence?

A frown spread over Ororo's full lips as she saw the two guards positioned in front of the hut's doorway. "What do you here, guardsmen?" she demanded to know. Ororo had never forgotten the formal venues or customs of her people, but she hadn't practiced them regularly in the outside world.

"We are to escort you to the palace, lady goddess. Lord Kikoibu himself has demanded such. If we return alone…" The guard's words trailed off, leaving Ororo in little doubt about his meaning.

"Kikoibu would have you executed for not bringing me to appear before him?" the woman said softly, chuckling dryly. "So, he does over extend his power. What sort of offense is this that perfectly innocent men are to be put to death?" She raised her voice. "So! We will go to the palace, but since I understand that Kikoibu will not have me living in under the roof that was good enough for my mother, I should gather some possession from within my home. Is that reasonable? After such actions, I shall accompany you guardsmen with no complaint."

"Be quick about it," the second guard said rapidly.

They had given no indication that they had seen her recent flight, but even if they did, surely tales had been passed to everyone about the powers of the Goddess. Gathering up a few things that held pleasant memories for her and what possessions she had brought with her from the outside world, Ororo felt almost trapped. She didn't bow to Kikoibu's demands, not at all. But if she were to save her people, Ororo didn't want to offend the man at the start.

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The palace was lavish, much more imposing than it had been during Hakiu's reign. The boy king was one of luxurious tastes, and it showed in the renovations he'd had commissioned to the palace. The man sat on a pile of full pillows, languidly eating grapes that seeming horribly out of place to Ororo. He wore a satin tunic of dark brown that was embossed with gold thread. Five women of different coloring and statures reclined around the room, their eyes following Ororo curiously as she entered the room.

"Ah! So, the goddess has decided to join us," the king said as he smirked in her direction. He wore his hair in a topnot decorated with streaming beads, the rest of it shaved. Less imposing than the elaborate headdress he'd worn outside of the palace, but still as amusing to Ororo's eyes.

"Send your servants away, Kikoibu," Ororo said quietly, an edge of steel in her voice.

"Go now. I will meet up with you later," was the command the king issued. Far too reaching for a ruler speaking to his servants, and Ororo's searching look said so as the women filed out with titters. "My wives," he answered smoothly. "Although I still wish for you as my bride, you couldn't expect me to wait forever, could you? If you do agree to wed me, I'll promote you to rank of First Wife. Bena wouldn't mind; she's forever griping that I bother her too much with the duty of creating another heir."

"Too many wives spoil a man," Ororo muttered. Her clan of Mbu hadn't used the practice of taking more than one spouse, although they'd had knowledge of such actions. Ororo had always known that the main clan of Mbu regularly married jointly, but had never wanted the practice to be part of her life.

Standing before the reclining king, Ororo felt naked without the face paint she would normally have worn in any everyday setting. Even the poorest people painted their faces, even if the only thing they had to use was dirt mixed with water.

"There will be a feast in honor of your return. The people are very joyous that the Storm Goddess has returned. Why did you stay away for so long, bringing pain to the people that counted on you?"

"I do not need a feast," Ororo said strongly. "What I need is for my people to be free of your rule. You are not good for them, Kikoibu, not at all."

He laughed loudly, smirking at her. "You always were one to speak your mind, weren't you? Very well said, but not true, I'm afraid. They aren't _your_ people; they're mine. I'm the one with the bloodline of a king, and you only have your powers over rain. Who do you think has more power among the Mbu?"

"Your power is based on hate," Ororo hissed, her eyes flashing like the lighting she could call up at will. "Damn." She hadn't meant to challenge him so suddenly, but she saw that the boy king wasn't about to back off.

"Fear not, goddess. I take none of your words seriously. I don't very well think that you would kill me in my sleep! Go now, one of the guards will show you to the suite of rooms I have had prepared for you. Ready yourself for the feast, which will be held tonight."

Ororo said nothing, only going to follow the guard as instructed. She wouldn't confront Kikoibu yet; she would bide her time until she had gauged what was really going on in the Mbu village.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been two days since Ororo's return to the village of the Mbu, but she had quickly grown used to the customs and language she'd been away from for so long. Her native language rolled off her tongue as easily as if she'd never been away from it, and she easily slipped back into the custom of painting her face with the symbols of her station. Before her powers had been revealed, the mystic symbols of a goddess had been in legends only, and it had been the stories of the ancient story-talking women that had remembered the truest runes she should use in her face painting.

Ororo had moved into the palace, deciding that it would be better to remain near Kikoibu, just in case the king was planning something. He had been surprised and angered at her return, although he wouldn't allow any of his emotions to show. But Ororo had heard from the lips of servants loyal to their goddess that the boy king had taken his frustrations out on his numerous wives. That was not something that Ororo appreciated: she had become part of the X-Men because of her sympathetic nature, and now she regretted leaving the team. How did they fare without the professor's leadership? Logan hadn't been ready to lead when Ororo had left; he was still reeling from Jean's untimely death and the hand he had had in her killing.

Ororo stood on the balcony of her room, looking out at the city stretched out farther than her eye could see. The city wasn't as strong as it had been when Hakiu had been on the throne, or the people as cheerful, but Ororo had seen a change in attitude when they knew that their goddess had returned. Dressed in a white silken tunic embroidered with light blue thread, a golden circlet on her forehead with her hair spilling down her back, Ororo felt truly at home. The face paint had stopped feeling stiff and uncomfortable as it had when she had first applied it after an absence of untold years, but now she felt comfortable with the characters of power etched on her face. In generations past, the royal members of the Mbu had the symbols created permanently with ink and sharp needles, but that practice had dwindled into the less-painful and temporary painting.

Her bare feet were smooth, having been massaged and oiled by well-meaning servants, an anklet of gold around her slim right ankle. Ororo was joyful to be back where she belonged, although she felt horribly uncomfortable in the palace. They saw her as a goddess, but she had never wanted the riches or the fame; all Ororo had ever wanted was to help her people. She had felt rage at Kikoibu when she had left her home because of his unwanted advances, but without her mother's presence, the home had felt hollow and empty, anyway.

Hearing a scraping at the door, Ororo frowned stormily as the door swung open silently. Even the servants weren't foolish enough to enter her rooms without express permission! The lithe form that entered, her head held high, wasn't completely unknown to Ororo. She had never spoken to the beautiful woman, but Ororo had seen her in the palace halls and heard stories of her. "Queen Bena," she murmured, bowing slightly.

The woman's eyes flashed as she located the person she was seeking. "Why does a goddess bow to a mere human queen?" the woman sneered. "Or are you only making fun of me when you refuse to honor my husband's position with that same act?"

Ororo sighed tiredly, knowing that the woman hadn't come offering words of friendship. "I do not respect your husband in any way. You are the First Wife -- shouldn't you resent him because he felt it necessary to take more women to the marriage bed that should have been yours alone?"

"It is the custom of the Mbu men to take more than one wife. Perhaps if you'd stayed at the village where you belonged, you would know more of these simple things."

The woman was angry, that much was clear. Ororo had never had the opportunity to talk to her, and couldn't understand why she felt so much animosity. "Queen Bena, I am not your enemy," she said softly. "I don't desire any of these comforts or riches that your husband seems to think are my right. I am only a weather witch; I am here for the comfort of our people and nothing more. Please, don't think of me as a usuper, for I am not such."

Bena's dark eyes were narrowed, her thin lips made even thinner as she pressed them together in barely restrained anger. The woman's breasts were bare, as was her right as First Wife. She had the privilege to show what had attracted her husband before any other women -- and not only the beauty of her face. It was a pratice that had caused a few deaths of jealous men who coveted that wife for his own, but there had been no law created to outlaw it. Probably because Kikoibu enjoyed taunting other men with the sight of what they couldn't have.

"There have been others who tried to turn my husband's head, but none made it into the palace as you have," Bena continued. "Gossip says that before you left the village, Kikoibu asked you to marry him. Doesn't it make sense, then, that if you agree to be his bride, you'll be elevated to the position of First Wife, as is your right, and I'll be cast aside like a used tunic?"

"None of that is my intention!" Ororo repeated. "Why should I want your husband when I am more powerful than he in my own position? I would lower myself to become a queen, his wife, and I refuse to do so."

Ororo didn't enjoy insulting others, but in this situation, she could see that it was warranted. Bena wouldn't back down unless she made it clear that she wasn't interested in Kikoibu in any way.

"The people might think of you as a goddess, but we all know you're just a freak. You should have stayed away, wherever you'd gone off to. It would have been better for all of us. You'll just destroy the Mbu!"

Ororo frowned at the woman, but said nothing. It would be better not to fight with the First Wife; that would only lead to unrest and perhaps the king would feel the need to choose between the village's goddess or his queen. Sweeping past Bena, Ororo left her bedchambers with her head held high. "You might share Kikoibu's bed, but you'll never be his wife!" Bena shrieked ineffectually as Ororo ignored her, continuing down the hall.

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The dirt streets of the village stirred up many memories in Ororo's mind: kicking up dust as she ran at her mother's call, the first time she had ever realized that she could control the wind. Her mother had called her "special" after they'd both witnessed the dirt flying up in an unexpected wind when Ororo had been angered by something. Precious memories almost lost to the ravages of time, but Ororo didn't want to forget her mother. The most important person who had ever lived, in Ororo's mind, although Charles Xavier, a pseudo-foster father, had taken a close second.

Hearing shouts in the distance and smelling smoke, Ororo hitched up the pace, rounding the corner of a nearby hut to see two boys, their clothes dirty, staring in horror at the flames that were just beginning to lick at the nearby hut. It was obvious to her what had happened: the two boys had been wrestling, and accidentally rolled into the banked fire, some of the coals knocked against the house wall and catching fire instantly.

Nearby, a woman -- most likely the mother -- was crying out in anger and fear, seeing her home about to go up in flames. Without thought, Ororo raised her hands, her hair blowing in a brisk breeze that sprung up from nowhere. A loud clap of thunder was the only warning before rain began pelting the hut, the fire hissing as it burned out.

The woman shrieked in amazement, her hands flying to her mouth as she sank to her knees. She cried out thanks to the spirits even as she scolded the culprits who had set the fire. Ororo smiled softly, seeing the woman's happiness. It would have been disastrous if she had lost her home -- it took far too much work to construct a hut of that size, and besides that, all of her possessions would have been lost.

Sinking off into the distance, Ororo wondered if Kikoibu had any sort of relief for people whose homes had been taken by fire, or their spouses that they depended on dying unexpectedly. What reprieve was there for the people who'd suffered?

Some things would have to change if Ororo stayed in the village, considering Kikoibu's way of ruling. Ororo had learned a lot from Charles, especially how to treat the people who depended on you. Kikoibu just wasn't doing what he should to keep the Mbu faith and loyalty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

There were a few modern things that Ororo missed, like Crest toothpaste and take-out Chinese food, but she found it wasn't so hard to acclimate herself to the life she'd been born into. The Mbu were totally cut off from the modern world except for a few daring souls, like Ororo herself, who had ventured forth. Most of them never returned -- even Ororo would have stayed away from the kingdom forever if it hadn't been for the world-shattering event of Charles' death.

In her bedchamber, Ororo dressed herself in a forest green tunic, embroidered with gold threads. She refused to bare her breasts in the way of Bena and some others. It was a practice of her people, but Ororo found it to be embarrassing: too much time in the modern world, probably, but she didn't care.

It had been six months since she had arrived in the Mbu village, six months since she had become a goddess instead of a freak. Sweeping her hair upward and pinning it with a wooden pick masterfully carved to resemble a dragon, Ororo motioned to the lingering servant to prepare her articles for the daily tattooing. She enjoyed wearing her mask of superiority, flaunting it in front of Kikoibu. It disguised her from everyone, and she felt that it even kept her feelings masked.

She had taken up the duties of protecting the Mbu people, keeping them safe from life's little accidents, like the fire she had stopped to save a woman's home. She had fought off Kikoibu's advances, as well as Bena's hostility. Finally, the woman's slim hands fell away and she offered a shy smile. "It is finished, goddess."

"Thank you," Ororo said, gaining her feet and smiling regally. Leaving the room even as the artist packed up her materials, Ororo swept down the hallway soundlessly, her bare feet feeling the welcoming coolness of the tiles.

Hearing a shriek, her steps paused, and she listened carefully to find its location. What reason would anyone have to scream in this place? Hearing a second, soul-shivering cry, Ororo took off running, her feet pounding soundlessly on the tile. The trail led her to courtyard, where a woman was crumpled on the dirt, her auburn hair streaked with red and falling to curtain her face. She was bleeding, her tunic ripped and the seared flesh showing beneath. Once again, a cry that wasn't human emanated from the girl as one of the nearby guards swung a whip at her, cracking it against her already tortured back. Her head flew up in pain, and Ororo gaped at the visage.

Another mutant, in this place! Her eyes were slitted against the pain, but they were obviously that of a cat. Her mouth was small, her teeth pointed where they were visible as she cried out. Ororo had missed it before, but now she saw that two cat's ears were laid back in pain on the top of her head, barely visible through her matted hair. Her claw-like fingers were gripping the dirt, soft whimpers coming from her throat.

"Leave her alone!" Ororo cried, rushing forward to stand between the girl and the guards. "What right have you to hurt this girl?"

"She's not human," one of the guards protested. "Can't you see that, you blind fool? She's an animal!"

Ororo reared back, angry now, dark storm clouds gathering overhead. "She is a _mutant_, not an animal. But then, doesn't society see mutants as animals?" she hissed. "I, too, am a mutant, but all of you have welcomed me here. If I am a goddess, then why is this girl an animal?"

Silence reigned as no one knew how to answer the perfectly logical question. "You… one of us. Mbu!" a shaky, confused voice finally cried out. The people didn't understand what a mutant was; they had always seen Ororo as a goddess because of her powers. She had known that she wasn't a goddess, although before she had left the village, she didn't know what a mutant was. After society (and Charles Xavier) had enlightened her to much of the modern world, Ororo had found out what she really was. Not a goddess, as the Mbu believed, but a human with a mutated gene: something known as the X-gene that separated her from ordinary people.

"Yes, I am Mbu by birth," Ororo said, her voice rising so that it traveled over the group. "Have you forgotten that my mother lived among you before her death? I may have powers of the weather, but that doesn't make me something to be scorned. I always admired my people because you accepted me and never feared. Why, now, are you falling in your ignorance? Hurting this girl just because she looks different?"

No one said anything, and Ororo stepped forward. Kneeling next to the mutant, her knee resting in the dirt, she reached to gently touch the girl's face. Before she could, the woman flinced, crying out in a mewling whimper. "Relax, my friend," Ororo whispered. "I will not harm you. I am like you -- different, a mutant. Do you know what a mutant is?"

The girl's eyes were wary, her face dirty and caked with blood. She wouldn't speak around the people who had captured and hurt her, Ororo saw. Nodding decisively, she got back to her feet. Crying out and dispering the group, who wandered off grumbling, Ororo smiled reassuringly at the girl. "Do you have a name?" she asked, thinking even as she spoke that it was possible the girl couldn't speak Mbu. Repeating the question in English, she waited for a response. Ororo spoke a smattering of German, learned from Kurt, but she didn't expect that the girl would understand that, either.

"Mau…" A pause, then the quavering voice came again. "My name is Mau." In perfect, slightly accented English.

"I am Ororo." Helping the girl to her feet, Ororo steered her toward the palace. "Come, let's get you cleaned up."

&&&&

Once the blood and dirt was washed away, Mau was a very beautiful girl, the feline features standing out starkly, although not detracting from her appeal. She perched nimbly on the edge of Ororo's bed, garbed in a fresh tunic, open-backed to avoid brushing against the open wounds on her back, scented with flowery soaps from the hot bath she'd enjoyed. The dark brown cat's ears on top of her head were silky, standing straight up in unadultered joy. "Why did you save me?" she questioned, the accented voice sweeping across Ororo's ears like a silken scarf.

Straightening up from the chest she'd been rummaging through, Ororo looked at the girl. "Because they had no right to persecute you merely for being a mutant. My people aren't usually so violent, although Kikoibu's rule has twisted their morals."

"My people were always violent," Mau mused. "That's why I made myself a home in the forest. If I had known it belonged to your people, I never would have trespassed. It was unintentional, I assure you."

"Your people drove you out?"

"No… I ran away," she said. "I was born a freak, but my _uniqueness_ drew the eye of our king. He wanted me for an exotic concubine, and my parents thought it would be the best thing possible for me. What they didn't know, unfortunately, is that the king had a violent streak. Especially for a half-cat girl that peaked his interest."

"How did you learn English?" It was a question that Ororo had been wondering about since she'd first heard the familiar words out of the girl's lips.

"One of the concubines in the king's harem, she was a foreign girl who spoke English. She taught me your words."

Compressing her lips together at another mention of the violent king, Ororo knelt down beside the trunk to lift out the object she'd been searching for. Stepping across the room to offer it to the girl, she sank down in front of the bed, curling her legs beneath her. "I thought this would be fitting for you, Mau."

The woman reached out to accept it, her clawed fingers nimble as she gripped the necklace. The burnished metal was in the image of a cat goddess, a piece of jewelry Ororo had picked up during a trip to Egypt quite a few years ago. "My people see me as a goddess of weather, and with a little prodding, they will see you as the queen of the felines."

"I… I do not wish that sort of attention," Mau stuttered, her eyes wide. "Please, miss, can't I just go back to the forest? I'll disappear, leave the lands of your people."

"We are kindred spirits," Ororo said softly, laying her hand on the girl's knee. "I could never leave you to fight for yourself in the forest. If you stay here, you'll have a much better life. You'd be a goddess, like I am. They would worship you. You could go back to your people a Supreme Being, and make the king who punished you kneel at your feet!"

For a moment, Ororo stilled, surprised at herself. Why did she urge this girl to greatness only to rub it in the face of the ones who had persecuted her? That wasn't Ororo's usual way! Taking a deep breath, she moved the mask of practiced coolness to fall over her face and disguise any lingering, unfamiliar feelings. "What I meant to say…" she said slowly, hesitantly. Who was this new woman, fighting her way from Ororo's soul, battling for dominance? She was angry, bitter, this mirror-self that had spoken so rashly in instructing Mau. Had living amongst the Mbu changed her so drastically from the person she'd been in Charles' presence?

Suddenly, Ororo felt constricted, trapped. Could barely breath, as if all of the oxygen has been leached from the room. "Oh, God," she moaned, suddenly understanding the way that Jean had felt when the Phoenix had taken over. Could something like that be happening to Ororo herself, holding her in its fiery grip?

Taking a deep breath, not finding the air she needed, Ororo lunged to her feet, running to the balcony and leaning over the edge. Gulping the air, she cried silent tears of grief. For Jean, who had been taken by a lurking evil in her own mind. An evil that, just maybe, everyone possessed. For Scott, who had been escorted to death by the woman he loved. For Charles, who had met his end only trying to help one of his best students.

"Are you okay?" The accented voice met Ororo's ears as she was readying to return to the room. Turning to meet Mau's worried eyes, she smiled reassuringly.

"Yes, I am fine. A little claustrophobic, maybe." Sweeping back into the bedroom, Ororo caught the cat-girl gently by the elbow, steering her back into the room. "It's been a long day for you. Why don't you rest?"

A drawn-out purr emanated from the girl's throat. "Yes, I think that would be for the best."

As the girl curled up in the middle of the large bed, the feline necklace snuggly in her grip, Ororo slipped from the room. Plans had already been set in motion to find out the reach of Kikoibu's power, and after she knew how far his authority reached, she would find a way to topple his pyramid of control. He was as far from his kind-hearted father as anyone could be, and he didn't deserve to rule the people.

Wandering the hallways of the palace with her thoughts, Ororo was surprised to hear her name being called. Turning, she saw Kikoibu standing there with a bare-breasted Bena at his side, two hulking guards flanking them. "Where is she?" Kikoibu called out. The poison-tipped blades at the ends of the guards' staffs drew Ororo's attention.

"Who?" she bluffed, knowing full well that the king meant the innocent Mau.

"The cat-girl," Bena hissed. "Where is the animal?"

"She is no animal!" Ororo said vehemently. "What do you want with Mau, anyway? She's of no use to you!"

"Sir!" This was the voice of a new guard, approaching from the side. "We've located the feline."

The last thing Ororo saw before something struck her in the back of the head and everything went dark was Kikoibu's leering grin.

&&&&

"Wake up, beast!"

The harsh words met Mau's ears, and a fist was slammed into her side. Yowling in pain, her eyes shot open and she sat up like a bullet, doubling over at the ache in her side. Through slitted eyes, she saw the sneering face of the dark-skinned king she'd seen before, in the courtyard when the guards had been beating her.

"My wife has decided that she'd like you for her pet," the man snarled. At a command from him, one of the guards with him jerked Mau to her feet, propelling her toward the door.

"No!" Mau cried out, struggling, searching frantically for the friendly face of Ororo. Had the woman deserted her, sold her out? Her last thoughts were frantic before her face was slammed into the doorframe and she was knocked unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Rough hands twisted her breasts, tweaking the nipples until Mau cried out in pain, her eyes flying open as she was roughly drawn from the unconscious haze she'd been lingering in. Harsh, feminine laughted met the girl's ears as she saw the bronze-skinned face of the queen. Her body was lithe, her face classically beautiful with perfect symmetrical lines. Her hair was midnight black, hanging loose down her back and framing her face. Her lips were dark red, their color enhanced by some sort of primitive makeup. Her forehead was high, the tattoos of royalty swimming across her face in gold-shimmering tones. Large hoops dangled from her ears, brushing against the top of her shoulders. She wore a woman's loincloth beautifully decorated with quills and hammered gold disks. Her bronze breasts were bare, firm, the dusky nipples jutting out tauntingly. Her feet were slim, the toes perfectly small, a gold anklet delicately balanced on her slim bones.

So this was Kikoibu's First Wife, the glint of madness and power shining in her eyes. The queen's slim fingers still caressed Mau's breasts, a grin on her lips. "Beautiful for a cat," she whispered. "Sexy human…"

Whimpering, Mau winced as rough fingernails encountered her nipples, pinching harshly. Mau understood the language of the Mbu, although she spoken to Ororo exclusively in English. Her own tribe was one of the hidden Mbu that hadn't follow Hakiu's command to band together.

Becoming alert slowly, Mau became conscious of the ropes at her wrists and ankles, keeping her in position on her back. "Why?" she whimpered, feeling cold air waft across her bare body. The fur that covered her entire body was very fine, and offered little resistance against cold.

"You're exotic," Bena whispered, her rouged lips close to the girl's ear. "It's only so long that I can be satisfied by the ones my husband sends to me. Was Ororo really so stupid to think that she could have you for herself? She might have powers none of the rest of us do, but that doesn't mean she can take you."

Mau realized that this woman was the sort of person who enjoyed inflicting pain on others, especially if it was done during the act of sex. Mau had many of the features of a feline, including a time of heat and no interest in sex otherwise. She would fight, tooth and nail, if a person attempted to induce her into sex if it wasn't her heat-time. Unfortunately, with a whine, Mau realized that it _was_ her heat-time, as her groin began to grow wet from Bena's caressing fingers. As the scent of her own arousal reached her nose, Mau cursed her body. Why did it have to be _now_, when she would accept anyone's sexual advances just to find her pleasure?

One slim, russet-colored hand slipped down to rub at Mau's vaginal lips, a pleased grin stretching Bena's lips now. "Perfect. You're in heat, aren't you, little cat? I'll make it good for you, I promise…"

"No," Mau whimpered. Her body might accept, even crave, the woman's touch, but Mau didn't want anything at all to do with the queen's sadistic nature.

&&&&

"Where the hell is she? You kidnapped her, you bastard!" Ororo screamed violently at the solemn-faced king.

Lounging placidly in the throne constructed for his comfort, Kikoibu shrugged carelessly. "Whatever are you talking about? I've kidnapped no one."

"Damn you, where is Mau?" Interspering English curses with her demands in Mbu, Ororo glared at the king. Thunder crashed overhead, a backdrop for Ororo's anger. Her eyes were blazing white in her fury, a tornado-like wind whipping through the room. "Answer me!"

"Perhaps the girl ran off, back where she came from," he suggested calmly.

It had been four days since Ororo had been knocked out, waking after two whole days to find herself in her bedroom, Mau nowhere in sight. Since that time, Kikoibu and everyone else had refused to answer her questions about Mau's whereabouts. Ororo had known the girl only for a short time, but already she felt protective toward her. If Kikoibu had sold her to a slave trader, or was using her for his own sadistic pleasures, Ororo would find out, and kill him. It was only a matter of time, she reassured herself even as she raged at the king.

Storming from the palace, away from the king's expressionless denials, Ororo took to the sky with the help of a gale of wind. Rumors had been circulating in the village about foreigners in the forest, spotted by hunting parties who had been frightened by odd happenings around the small group. The possibility of more mutants showing up peaked Ororo's interest, and would distract her from her search for Mau so that she could come back with a fresh start.

Flying over the lush greenery of the jungle, Ororo's sharp eyes delved down to the vine-laden ground, searching for any signs of human life. Finally, almost ten miles away from the village gates, following the river, she saw smoke. What fools announced their presence so boldly? Only those who wanted to be caught, probably. Touching down a few feet from the campsite, Ororo knelt in the undergrowth, keen eyes searching the tamped-down area.

Her dark brown tunic blended in with the shadows, so she didn't have to worry about being spotted before she had gauged the attitude of these people. Suddenly, she felt the sharp bite of steel at her back. "Figured you people would be too nosy to stay away," an achingly familiar voice growled as the blades were pushed a little further into the skin of her back.

"Logan," she breathed, tears gathering in her eyes as she remained still.

For a few moments, there was a stunned silence. Then, a strangled voice intoned her name reverently. The claws were retracted, and Ororo turned, still kneeling, a watery smile on her face as she saw the rough face of the Wolverine. "What on earth are you doing here?" she mouthed, throwing herself into the man's arm for a tight hug.

"We ain't doin' so good without ya, Storm. I ain't the kind of leader those kids need. They need someone like you, with a gentle hand."

Pulling back from the hug, they both got to their feet and went to the silent campsite where the large bonfire, built exclusively for the attention it would draw, crackled and snapped. "Who else is here?" Ororo questioned, looking around for other X-Men who might have accompanied the Wolverine.

"Rogue's back at the river washin' up, and Angel's around here somewhere."

The weather witch frowned slightly. "Just those two? They're…"

"Children, yeah. They've grown up a hell of a lot, Ororo. Just you wait and see." A pause. "We were all worried about you. A lot of the others wanted to come, but we just needed a small team. To bring you home, Ororo."

The woman's eyes flew to his. "Home? But, Logan, I…" She paused, her mouth working silently as she searched for the words.

"This ain't home for you, not anymore. We all know it, Ororo. It's been too long; you need to come back to the institute."

"Logan, please," she said softly, her eyes filling with pain. She didn't feel accepted with the Mbu, not totally, but at least she wasn't considered a freak, the way she had been while part of the X-Men. But she did miss her friends, the life she'd found for herself. How could she really say that she wanted to stay with the Mbu, for any reason?

"People are acceptin' us now, Ororo. Understanding mutants a little more. They aren't as afraid, at least not most of them. It's not as bad as it was before. Parents are visitin' at the instittue. I'm no people person; you're the type that would be good as leader for all of them. We need you, Storm."

_Storm_. How long had it been since someone had called her that? "So, you found one of their scouts. Do we kill him, torture him in the bonfire until he talks?" The flapping of wings accompanied the voice, and Ororo turned with a smirk to see the snow-white wings of Angel folding in behind him. His eyes widened as he saw her face. Angel had only seen her briefly before she'd left, but photos had been left on the walls of the mansion. It would be impossible not to recognize the member of the X-Men known as Storm.

Mumbling an apology, Angel dashed off toward the river to find Rogue. Laughing with mirth at the boy's mistake, Ororo turned her smile on Logan. "I'll go back," she decided abruptly. "But there's someone I have to help at the village first. You'll help me?"

"Of course."

&&&&

The gates opened wide at a command from Ororo, who glared at the guards who attempted to impede her progress. They were wary of the three extra, obviously foreign, people that arrived with Ororo. Perhaps they believed that she had been ambused and was now being used as a means for the barbarians to get past the gates. Finally, when they were permitted to walk freely into the village, Ororo mumbled to them the layout of the village. She had already told them of Mau, and her suspicion that she was still somewhere in the community. Hidden in the hut of a guard, maybe, or secreted in the palace.

"Shouldn't we be thinking that this dude sold her off to some circus? I mean, primitives don't know much about mutants, right? No offense, Storm," Rogue added with a hint of embarrasment.

"Kikoibu wouldn't just sell her; she's too important in his dealings with me," Ororo said with confidence. "At first, I thought maybe he'd sold her to a slave trader, to someone's harem, but that's not his style." Her path down the dirt streets was confident, she knew exactly how to get where she was going.

"Hell, let's just bust up his palace, then, and find this girl," Logan growled.

Angel was silent as he walked with the group, conscious of the awed eyes of the people who saw his wings. Snow-white, they stood out in the brown hues of the village like a rainbow. "He'll know we're coming," he spoke up softly. "Is rushing in really the best way?"

"Force is the only thing this man understands," Ororo said harshly.

In what seemed like no time at all, they reached the palace. Brushing past the guards, Ororo stormed into the throne room. Kikoibu was gone, which didn't surprise. Yelling at the nearby guard to lead her to Bena's chambers, Ororo allowed Logan to threaten the man until he cowed enough to lead them to the queen's bedroom.

Shoving open the door, Ororo halted dead at the sight before her. Kikoibu, naked, standing over the bed. His hand caressed his erection as he watched his wife on the bed, her face buried in the vagina of the cat-girl who was tied to the bed, tears streaming down her face.

"Bastard!" Ororo shrieked, rushing at the man. With a bolt of lightning backing her up, she punched him full in the face. Barely registering Logan's movements as he pinned the man to the floor, his steel claws dangerously close to the king's now flaccid penis, Ororo yanked Bena from the bed, her fist slamming into the queen's face with a satisfying crack of bone. "Monster!" she screamed, pummeling the woman desperately. If only she hadn't allowed herself to be knocked out, Mau wouldn't have been harmed.

Rogue and Angel were gently freeing Mau, Angel finding a robe to wrap around the girl's naked form. "You'll be okay now," he said, smiling tenderly.

Her breathing ragged, Ororo stumbled away from the broken and bloody body of Bena, pleased with the damange she'd done. Hurting the woman with her fists instead of her powers had been very satisfying. The ugly head of the evil mirror-image of herself faded once again, her revenge having been taken. Pain-filled screams reached Ororo's ears as she swam back to reality and, looking over, she winced in sympathy. Logan had taken it upon himself to relieve Kikoibu of his manhood.

"Monster like this bastard don't need this," Logan snarled, wiping the blood off his claws on a nearby curtain.

Ororo felt nauseous, but she understood the Wolverine's reasons. The man had been sadistic, allowing his wife to rape Mau while he looked on, probably to do it himself very shortly. How many other girls of the village had been subjected to this sort of torture, not daring to speak up in their defense because he was their king?

Taking Mau into her own arms, Ororo walked from the palace with the others flanking her. If proper medical attention were administered, Kikoibu and his wife would survive. If not, it was not a harsh loss.

&&&&

Being back at the Xavier Institute, Ororo felt a sense of homecoming. How could she have ever felt that she belonged, in any sense, with the Mbu? After her mother's death, she had truly been separated from that place. Kneeling in front of Charles Xavier's grave, flanked by Jean's and Scott's, Ororo bent her head. "Forgive me for running, professor. I was afraid; I didn't think I could live in this world after I lost your tutelage. I wouldn't have, before, if it hadn't been for you. I realize now that my place is here, helping other mutants. You would have liked Mau, I think; she's a sweet girl. Battered and hurt, but she'll grow and become herself again. Warren's really helping her out; we're lucky to have him. He's definitely Mau's guardian angel, you know." She paused, tears swimming in her eyes as she gazed the inextinguishable flame gracing the professor's grave. "I'll never forget you, professor. I'll follow in your footsteps the best I can. I'm sorry I ran off, out of fear."

Her throat constricted and she choked up, her eyes squeezing shut. She would take a few more moments to herself before she reentered the mansion, speaking to the newest clique of students that had arrived in her absence. She would forget the Mbu again, gladly, and hopefully they would flourish out of the ashes of Kikoibu's rule. For now, she only wanted to take on the mantle of principal at the school for Gifted Youth and continue Charles' mission.

Smiling wistfully, Ororo got to her feet and walked across the lawn toward the mansion. It would be a new beginning, for her and the others.


End file.
